Shadow Figure
by GEDOMAZO10TAILS
Summary: Hidden from the world. Guilt-ridden for the crimes he has committed. Lost. Alone. Powerful. Will he break? Or will he become something never seen before? HP/FD/DG/NT
1. An Introduction

**I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I most certainly would not have had Harry be paired with Ginny, nor would I have made Hermione what is essentially a universal Band-Aid. No, I would have made Harry much more powerful, not a whiny little bitch that can't do anything for himself.**

The shadowed figure stood, a silent sentinel, atop a cliff high above the sleeping town. It stared down in to the clearing down at the monoliths base, the fires light flickering within the group of men.

The shadow slowly stepped forward, before coming to the edge. It paused, head cocking to the side, before leaping over the edge, and falling at extreme speed. The wind whistling by, the phantom fell through the darkness, coming ever closer to the ground. As the shade neared the unforgiving earth, it drew upon its considerable power, the magic stored within its body, to harden its muscles, bones and organs, while simultaneously softening the hard-packed dirt.

The phantom crashed into the ground, leaving a crater in its wake. The Death Eaters spun, startled, some reaching for their wands. But it was already too late.

The figure, now obviously masculine by his silhouette in the moonlight, raised his hand, his fingertips glowing darkly before black flames burst hungrily towards the unfortunate Death Eaters. Screams echoed in the clearing as the closest men were turned to ash. The dark flames spread, devouring all in their path, before halting, as if contained by invisible walls, trapped in a perfect circle.

The shadowed man strode forward, unimpeded by the demonic flames. The Death Eaters quivered in fear, before a brave, though the argument could be made for idiotic, few charged forward, wands coming up in front of them. They ran, screaming a wordless battle cry, before they were repelled by an unseen force. They flew through the air, before crashing into the trees or the colossal cliff, the sound of bones snapping sounding out. The remaining men stared in fear.

"W-We surrender." A particularly cowardly vermin screamed out, the stench of urine heavy around him. His companions, those that were still among the living, hastened to agree with him. The dark man paused, as if considering it. The Death Eaters held their breaths. Would he let them live? Would he allow them to go free? Their hopes were dashed when he next spoke,

"So?"

Seconds later, every one of them was sent flying. It was as if the hand of God had come and swatted them away like inconsequential insects. The man, if he could indeed be called a man, walked, strolled, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, toward each of the fallen men. Some had their necks broken, dying instantly. They were the lucky ones. The few that had survived the initial onslaught each had a conjured spike of steel shoved into their stomachs. Without medical attention, they were in for a long and painful death as their stomach acid spilled over their organs and into their bloodstream, slowly dissolving and poisoning them at the same time, all while they bled out.

"H-How could you do th-this? W-We s-surrendered!" The final survivor pathetically whimpered out as the dark man stood from the man he had just thrust the miniature spear into. He turned toward the man, slowly taking long strides toward him, his gait was confident, deadly, a feline predator on the hunt.

"Surrendered?" he queried, his voice sounding darkly amused. "Tell me, how many have you slaughtered that 'surrendered'? How many have got on their knees and begged you to spare not only their lives, but that of their families? That is how I can do this. In vengeance, in Justice for all you have taken, whether life, possession or innocence. All the lives you have destroyed! But most of all, I can do this..."

The man gracefully took the last few steps to the prostrated wreck of a man, dark fire springing to his fingertips. He bent down, placing his mouth next to the fallen grunts ear.

"...But most of all, I can do this because I am a bad man."

Was all he said before plunging his fire-coated fingertips into the nameless man's stomach. A horrible gurgling noise tore from his throat as blood splayed from between his lips, before the screams of a doomed man echoed into the night as cursed flame erupted from his skin. The fire moved slowly, as if to savour the fallen man's flavour, prolonging his suffering. Finally, suddenly, there was silence, bar the crackling of the charred, burning corpse. The dark man's glacial green eyes never leaving the horrific show, from the first gurgle, to the man's final, dying spasms.

The pale man stared at the carnage he had wrought around him, a flicker of disdain appearing on his face, the first emotion he had shown that night.

"Pathetic." He muttered, wiping the crimson liquid off of his hands. He pulled a foot-long wooden stick from within his sleeve, before flicking it in a complicated series of motions. Dark fire spewed from the tip, vaporizing everything in its path, leaving only scant ashes in its wake.

Underneath the light of the half-moon, and in the bright light of the roaring cursed fire, Harry Potter turned away, disappearing into the inky blackness of the desolate night.

**I'm not re-writing my fic, just going over it for mistakes and maybe adding a few things. There will still not be any new chapters till at least after the new year.**


	2. Musings of the Past

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. Except for the fact that I own a copy of the books and movies.**

"My lord, another group were taken out last night." Lucius Malfoy said as he prostrated himself on the dirty ground in front of the Dark Lord Voldemorts black throne.

"What?" Voldemort hissed out in fury, his red eyes flashing dangerously. "This is the fifth time in a row he has struck without our knowledge, and we still do not know of his identity. Rodolphous, Rabastan, have you made any progress into discovering the identity of this attacker."

"No my Lord, but we continue to search to the extent of our capabilities." Rodolphous whimpered out, fearing the pain of the torture curse that his Lord was so fond of using.

"Good, good, continue to do so. Severus, is there any news on the Potter brat?"

"No my Lord, Dumbledore is searching as well, he was last seen in Bristol, before leaving the next day before they could move in."

"Yes, excellent, continue monitoring. Bellatrix, how goes your… assignment?" He hissed softly.

"It goes well Master, they are oblivious as I draw ever closer. I soon expect an invitation into their ranks." The mad witch said quickly, twisted pleasure in her eyes.

"Good, good. And any other news" He queried, his head making minute movements, yet manging to gather all of his servants into his gaze.

"No my Lord, they remain ignorant of your movements, and they continue to attempt to gather allies."

"Wonderful my Death Eaters, now, leave me, I must think alone."

...

Albus Dumbledore looked upon his Order with pride. It had been a trying three years since Voldemort had risen once more, but they had all performed admirably, though there were some wrinkles. Such as when Harry Potter hadn't shown up at the sorting ceremony his first year, many of his plans had to be changed once he had discovered he had run away at the age of 7, though he had never stopped searching.

It had been difficult at the school, starting with poor Quirinus Quirrel, whom he had discovered to be a servant of, the then wraith-like, Lord Voldemort. They had duelled furiously, though Dumbledore had won with little effort. Possessed by Voldemort or not, Quirrel was still only a slightly above average wizard.

In what should have been Harry Potters second year, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened once more, and Slytherins beast unleashed. Albus was naturally suspicious. The last Heir of Slytherin had been Tom Riddle, and as far as he knew he had had no progeny. It had eventually been discovered by her concerned elder twin brothers, that Ginny Weasley had been manipulated to open the Chamber. Guilt-ridden and tearful, she had confessed and told him all she could remember. Albus had then led a team of Aurors down into the chamber to face the basilisk, after, of course, using Fawkes's flames to destroy the diary. The battle, if one could call it that, had been simple. Dumbledore had simply conjured a rooster, before banishing it into the chamber under a compulsion to crow as loudly as it could.

The next year, Sirius Black had escaped wizarding England's only prison Azkaban, and it seemed that the supposedly insane killer had broken out to kill the missing Harry Potter. It had been proven just after the Easter holidays though, that Peter Pettigrew, who was well-known to be dead, was still alive by the lycan DADA teacher Remus Lupin, who had come to him with a curious map he had confiscated from the Weasley twins. After quickly finding and stunning both Black and Pettigrew, much to the distress of the youngest male Weasley, and giving the both of them a whirlwind trial, with generous use of veritaserum and Legilimency, Sirius Black was a free man, though not quite as happy as he would like to be after the news was broken to him about his Godson.

_(Flashback)_

"_So, what's Harry like? I bet he's a great Quidditch player like his dad. Or is he more like Lils? Cause that'll be fine if he is, but-"_

"_Sirius, there's something you should know..."_

_As Dumbledore continued to speak, Sirius's face began to collapse in on itself, becoming visibly depressed._

"_So, he's gone? And you don't know where he is?"_

"_No, Sirius, I'm afraid not."_

_Sirius crumpled. One of the few things that had kept him sane over the years was that Harry was safe... To learn otherwise, or that he might even be dead..._ _It was like learning that Santa Claus did not dwell on the North Pole, but on a mountain of skulls in a castle of pain and sat on a throne of blood, feasting on small babies and torturing the souls of the innocent to fuel his sleigh._

_(Flashback end)_

In what would have been Harry's fourth year, the tri-wizard tournament was brought to Hogwarts. After three vicious tasks, the Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory was killed, his drained body sent back to the entrance of the maze. Albus knew then, that Voldemort was corporeal once more.

In the next year, Minister Cornelius Fudge ran a smear campaign against Dumbledore and all of his allies for 'spreading panic in order to reclaim lost glories'. Dumbledore was removed from all of his positions bar that of Headmaster, which he eventually lost during the school year and was subsequently replaced by Dolores Umbridge. At the end of the year, a group of students, including Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Weasely and Luna Lovegood escaped the school and headed towards the ministry after receiving a letter informing them that Mr. Longbottoms Grandmother was held captive. After a series of duels, which miraculously nobody was fatally injured in, though Miss Granger had required a strict potion regimen, Tom himself had entered the ministry, with Albus following him shortly. After a display of powerful magic many could only wish that they could learn, Voldemort retreated with his followers at the arrival of the minister and several of his guards.

The next two years had been fairly uneventful, only small raids and attacks, and the new vigilante that was repelling them showing himself for the first time. Speaking of, Severus Snape had just walked through the door of Number 12 Grimmauld place, straight from his meeting with the Dark Lord.

"Ah, Severus, come in, my boy, come in. Tell us, what do you have to report on Lord Voldemorts movements." Dumbledore asked, ignoring the customary shudders and flinches at the Dark Lords name.

"Nothing of interest, he continues to search for both the Potter brat and he who continues to strike against him."

"Nothing else? Really, Snivellus, what good of a spy are you if you can't get anything?"

"I am of better use than you Black. I at least do something of use. Cleared or not, no one trusts an ex-con."

"Why you-"

"Sirius, Severus, that is enough! We must work together if we are to defeat Lord Voldemort!" Dumbledore once again ignored the shudders that came from speaking the name.

Both men scoffed, before looking away. Dumbledore frowned internally, disappointed, before pushing forward.

"Alastor, Kingsley, Nymphadora, any news in the Ministry?"

"Scrimgeour is pushing reforms onto the Aurors, about bloody time in my opinion, but other than that, nothing to report." Alastor said gruffly, his eye spinning about randomly.

Albus nodded. "Very well, then I call this meeting to an end, and now let us move on to Molly's wonderful cooking." He said with a grandfatherly smile and his eyes twinkling.

As everyone got up to either leave, or collect food, Albus's smile dropped.

_Tom, what are you up to?_

...

Harry Potter stared up at the moon, his pale face reflected off the window of his hotel room after the slaughter he had committed, a melancholy look on his face. He had felt this way almost constantly since _she _had left.

(_Flashback)_

"_I'm sorry Harry, but I can't do this anymore."_

_Harry's face clearly showed his surprise and confusion. "What do you mean?_

"_You know what I mean. Not knowing whether you're going to come back whenever you leave, the paranoia, the fear that someone will eventually come for me. I'm sorry, but I'll always remember the times we spent together._

_Harry smiled sadly, the sadness, the grief easily shown on his face. "No you won't," Harry said softly, drawing his wand and pointing it at his loves beautiful face, her eyes widening in shock and fear._

"_Obliviate."_

_(Flashback end)_

He sighed, that was when his opinion of himself had dropped irreversibly. He couldn't even get probably the only person in his life to ever show him love to stay with him. And the fear in her eyes, he would never know if it was because she thought he would hurt her, or some other unknown reason, and that made it hurt all the more...

He lifted himself off of the window ledge and took one last look at the town in France, before slowly drifting off to bed. Another fitful sleep was in his future, he was certain.

**AN- The thing with Bellatrix was added mainly because I had completely forgotten her, and when it was pointed out to me, I immediately knew I what I could do with her. And as to how she can gain the trust of anyone, well, there is a certain Black family trait that I've always thought of as underused… **

**Anyway, review, please, and vote on my profile for the pairing.**

**PS- And yes, I am aware that I stole the Santa Claus part, but it's just such a good line, I couldn't resist. Tribute to Perfect Lionheart's Partially Kissed Hero for that Line**


	3. A Meeting, and The Game

**AN- I have tallied the votes (ha) and the winner is… Multi! With the 2 girls Harry is to be paired with being Daphne and Fleur! The line-up was**

**Multi- 5**

**Fleur- 6**

**Daphne- 4**

**Tonks- 2**

**Tracey- 1**

**OC- 1**

**Alicia, Katie and Angelina- 0**

**And just so I'm clear, I'm making Harrys', Rons', Hermiones' and everyone in their age group two years older, mainly so that Harrys' and Fleurs' ages closer.**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish I did…**

Harry stared uninterestedly into his latest victims eyes. Another attack had been planned at a muggle town in France, near Paris. His heart throbbed painfully at the thought of being so close to the girl that had once loved him. No matter how much time passed, he doubted that that particular wound would ever heal.

He'd caught wind of an attack here thanks to one of his contacts within the Death Eater ranks, and while it wasn't that important on an immediate scale, it would still put more fear into the hearts of Voldemorts' ranks. And any strike was an advantageous one.

He sighed, before apparating away, directly into his five-star Paris hotel room. He slowly stripped down before placing his blood soaked clothes into the washing machine provided, before stepping into the shower to wash the red liquid off of his stained skin, his viridian eyes dulling with mental fatigue. His thoughts drifted to the young woman who had captured his heart, as he remembered their first meeting…

_(Flashback)_

_Thirteen year old Harry Potter strode silently on the marble floors of the Atrium of the French Ministry, his face set in an impassive mask. He didn't want to be there, but a ministry official that he had done a job for had invited him before he could leave. He couldn't decline, he had always strived to be polite after all, and he wouldn't let one ball invitation stop that._

_Now, he was regretting it. He hated parties. And more importantly he hated open places with lots of people. They made him uncomfortable._

_He sighed, resting his head on his hand. Why did he have to agree to this? Next time, he was refusing, politeness be damned!_

_Apparently, some of his thoughts must have spilled out of his mouth, as a giggle sounded out from behind him._

_He spun gracefully, even at his age, he'd learned that one clumsy move could mean the end of his continued existence, and had to stop himself from gaping._

_A beautiful- stunning- girl, who looked to be about a year older than he was, with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, stood there, her hand covering her mouth. Her skin was flawless, and a pale milky white. She was gorgeous…_

_Harry shook his head slightly, regaining his mental faculties and tried to stop himself from blushing, Judging from the amused look in the stunning girls eyes, he wasn't successful._

"'_Oo do not enjoy ze ball, monsieur?"_

"_Not particularly, I've never been comfortable in large crowds." Harry got out, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to speak at all._

"_Oh?" She inquired, a raising an eyebrow, "and why not?"_

"_I don't rightly know, to be honest." He lied smoothly. "It's just always been that way. I'm Hadrian Black, by the way, but please, call me Harry." He said, smiling charmingly at her._

"_Fleur Delacour." She returned, a heavenly smile adorning her lips, her hand rising to slightly below shoulder height._

_He reached out and held it delicately, as if it were made of glass, before bringing it to his lips._

_(Flashback end)_

That had been the beginning of their friendship, which had quickly blossomed into romance. He closed his eyes as his chest tightened. It still hurt so much.

…

The Dark Lord Voldemort was known for his power, his decisiveness, and his brilliant, albeit insane, mind. He was known for being arrogant to the point of foolishness, though with the power to back it up, and never second guessing himself.

So it would have come as a shock to anyone who was to see this particular scene. Voldemort strode around his Throne Room inside Malfoy Manor, his mind heavily weighted. For the last 6 months, his various raids and attacks had been blocked. Not only that, but instead of being imprisoned, as they usually where, they were slaughtered! All over Europe, his men were meeting their demise, and he couldn't fathom who could possibly be doing it. It wasn't Dumbledore. Powerful as he may be, he was too soft-hearted to kill so ruthlessly, his Order no better.

It couldn't be the various Ministries; they were all far too incompetent. Which left only one answer, and it wasn't one that he liked. There was a new player on the board, one that was in opposition with him. An unknown factor was a terrible thing in a war. He didn't know his powers, he didn't know his limits, and he didn't know his weaknesses.

Yes, a new player was a bad thing For the Dark Lord Voldemort.

…

Albus Dumbledore stared out his office window at the majestic grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His half-moon spectacles and twinkling blue eyes reflected back at him from the glass plane as he sat, deep in thought. Severus had just returned from a meeting of the Inner circle, and the news he reported was both worrisome and pleasing at the same time. It seemed that Tom was finally starting to take this new player seriously, which meant that whoever it was, was seriously starting to get to him.

It was worrisome because that meant Tom would start sending more experienced, more powerful Death Eaters on raids in hopes of catching this person, this shadow off guard, meaning there would be more casualties if they didn't show, or if they did, a higher chance they would be killed. On the other hand, it meant that Tom was expending less of his attention onto the Order and their activities, giving them some breathing room.

He frowned. Either way, it signalled a new phase of this war, but whether it was for good or ill, only time would tell

**AN- So, we get to see a little bit about Harry and Fleurs' backstory, that'll be coming up more in the next few chapters.**

**AN2- Just to clear up any possible confusion, in my story Voldemort isn't going to be limited to just England, no he wants the whole damn world. I always felt that Voldemort should have gone for more, but it seemed he was content with just England, or at best, Europe. My Voldemort is going for Asia, America, Africa, everything. Also, there will be no Horcruxes. I hate them, and I think they're absolutely idiotic. Voldemort will remain alive due to a bunch of rituals and being obscenely powerful. The diary was not a Horcrux, just a clever, powerful piece of magic.**

**AN3- Now, I'm keeping the poll results there because I think that they're somewhat important. If you don't like it, too bad, it's my decision.**

**IMPERIO! Now, Review! Or I'll set the dark fire on you! Flames will be used to light my barbecue.**


	4. Love, Vengeance and Ambition

**Yo! Aren't I just awesome! Don't worry, I will allow you to bask in my pure awesomeness, just try not to faint from overexposure *Gold light shines from the heavens and bathes me in light* There we go, that's enough.**

**Disclaimer- Seriously, do we have to put this at the beginning of every chapter? It seems pretty pointless to me…  
Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else you recognise, more than likely… (but anything you don't recognise, I completely claim, it's all mine! Mine! Mwahahahahaha…*cough-cough*)**

**Some Harry/Fleur fluff flashbacks this chapter… Along with a bit of a surprise.  
AN- And again, just to clear up any confusion, when I said I was bringing up their ages by two years, I meant that instead of Harry being born in 1980, he was born in 1978, and graduated in 1995, but the story takes place in 1997, and Fleur was still born 1977, meaning Harry and everyone is 19, but Fleur is still 20. Now, on with the story…**

Harry Potter strolled through the bloody carnage he had wrought. They were not Death Eaters, but a cult that had sprung up near where he had taken up a temporary residence. Their beliefs centred on sacrificing virgin girls to their 'God' in order to enter Heaven. What utter foolishness, he thought, as his glacial eyes took in the dead and dying around him. His attention was brought to the altar, where the 'Priests were all lying in various states of fatality, ranging from 'dead' to 'overkill'.

"Who are you to challenge the might of heaven itself?" Rasped one of the few surviving 'Priests', his entrails pouring from his stomach.

Harry laughed bitterly, his voice low. "I challenge nothing. I walk my path in life, and if heaven tries to block my way, I will burn down heaven." He replied softly, his voice barely heard amongst the crackling flames. He watched with a seemingly serene look on his face as the dying man glared at him with all of the force he could muster, before his body gave out from the blood loss and shock.

Harry turned, and apparated back to the apartment he was staying at, allowing the demonic flames to swallow up the entire gory massacre.  
TIME SKIP- 1 HOUR

Harry stepped out of the shower; the tiles now dyed scarlet, vermillion water pouring down the drain. He reached for a towel, his muscled body glittering from the light reflected by the water, before drying himself off, wiping any remaining blood or ash mixed with the water from his pale, toned body.

He dressed himself in his night clothes, before walking to the window, and looking out the glass plane, the smoke still rising in the distance, along with the sound of fire trucks and ambulances, with police sirens on their way. He sighed, sometimes he truly hated his life, filled with slaughter as it was. Once upon a time, there was balance, Fleur had given him something to come back to and take his mind off of the regular massacres he committed, but no longer. He sighed again, leaning against the cool glass, and allowed himself to be swept into the memories…

_(Flashback)_

"_Oh 'Arry, what will I do with 'oo?" Came a melodious voice, filled with exasperation._

"_Love me?" Came the cheeky reply, a mischievous grin upon his lips. Fleur laughed, a beautiful, tinkling sound that filled the clearing they were laying in._

"_Oui. Tha' seems abou' right." She said throatily, leaning down and pressing her lips to his…_

_(Flashback_

_Harry slowly crept upon Fleur's prone figure, a book held in front of her as she read in the confort of her families living room. He silently leaned forward, a teasing grin on his lips, as he lowered his hands down to her sides…_

_And began tickling her mercilessly as she squealed and fell to the floor._

"'_Arry! 'Arry! Stop! Stop, please!" She cried as tears escaped her eyes._

"_Oh?" He inquired, the teasing grin never leaving his lips. "And what will you give me if I stop?"_

"_Anything! Anything! Just please, stop!" She forced out through her involuntary laughter._

_Harry laughed lightly as he stood up off the floor, before bending over to pick her panting form off of the ground, before laying a sound kiss upon her lips._

"_Batard!" She cried as she slapped him lightly on the shoulder after they broke the kiss. "That was mean." She pouted cutely as he laughed again._

"_Yes, but you still love me." He declared faux-arrogantly as she giggled, lightly slapping him again, this time on the chest…_

_(Flashback)_

"_Tempus!" He thought, flicking his wand. 12:53._

_Harry hoped she'd still be awake as he turned to the stairs leading toward her room._

_No time like the present to find out._

_Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry entered without hesitation, his excitement getting thee better of him as his anticipation came to the forefront._

_The room was dark, but the four-poster curtained bed was lit with a soft glow from within. She was still up. Yes!_

_Harry walked over to the curtain and ripped it open._

**(For some reason, the lemon was removed for being to similar to another on the site, which I swear to god was not intentional. I do not copy other peoples stories. Anyway, if anyone wants to write the lemon, PM me.)**

_Harry and Fleur were locked in a passionate embrace, their nude sweaty bodies entwined beneath the covers. Harry smiled tiredly, his muscles aching sweetly as he pulled the quarter Veela towards him, a beatific smile upon her full, pink lips. A lustful smirk graced his features as he felt her large, soft breasts crushed against his chest._

"_I love you." He whispered in her ear._

"_Mmmm… Love you too." She murmured sleepily._

_(Flashbacks end)_

…

The Dark Lord Voldemort sat upon his throne within Riddle Manor, his blood red eyes staring into the candle-lit room. His mind whirring with ways to find the mysterious man who had been killing his Death Eaters. After receiving reports of a cult decimated with the same black fire that had been used on his pawns it seemed that the man may not be a new player in this war after all, but merely a supposed _'Good Samaritan'._

But he couldn't take that chance. And even if he(for it had to be a man, no woman could ever amass so much power) was just a 'helpful passer-by', he was still taking his Death Eaters lives, and that was unforgivable, not that he cared about them personally.

No, Lord Voldemort would not rest until this man was silent as the night...silent as the Earth...silent as the heavens...silent as the _dead_.

…

Hermione Granger looked on in disgust as Ronald Weasley dug into his food, scraps flying everywhere, with more of it going onto his robes and the floor than into his mouth. The red-head looked completely oblivious to the world around him, focused entirely on his mother's cooking in front of him. She had always found him revolting in almost every way, but had to put up with him for Dumbledore's sake. He had asked her to, and she could never deny the Headmaster anything. Just as she had returned to Hogwarts, along with most of the Order under twenty-five, in order to be closer to their leader, as well as to protect the school.

She shook her head, before standing up to leave. Ron surprisingly looked up as she started walking away.

"'Ermione, where are 'u go-ing?" Ron bellowed through a mouthful of food, scraps spraying from his mouth all over his robes, the floor, the table, and surrounding students and people from the Order who had also sat at the Gryffindor table, much to everyones disgust.

"Away from you, Ronald." She responded tartly, continuing on her way out the Great Hall doors. Ron just shrugged and went back to…'eating'(shovelling food into his mouth with his bare hands). Vulgar barbarian.

She strode briskly toward the library, annoyance clear in her stride. If only Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts in her first year like he was supposed to. Then she would have had access to the lauded Potter family library. The knowledge in the famous Library was rumoured to match that off the Hogwarts one, Restricted Section included! Ah well, she consoled herself, it was only a matter of time. Eventually The-Boy-Who-Lived would be found, and then she would get her reward for all her years of tolerating the Red-Haired Pig…

**AN- Because of the amount of people PMing me, I will be re-opening the pairing poll, though Fleur will still be the pairing, this will be for if it's a single pairing, or if it will be Multi.**

**Okay, the Voldemort part I think could have come out better, but I'm pretty happy with it.**

**Draco- 20 votes**

**Snape- 19 votes**

**Molly, Ron, Ginny- 16 votes**

**Hermione- 14 votes**

**All Weasleys except twins- 11 votes**

**No Bashing- 7 votes**

**All Weasleys- 2 votes**

**I added the bashing poll for the same reason I kept the pairing poll.**

**REVIEW, OR I SHALL SUMMON DEMONIC CHICKENS TO FEAST ON YOU ENTRAILS!**


	5. A Drunken Encounter

**Disclaimer- Alright, you got me, I'm actually J.K. Rowling and I'm trying out another way the books could have gone, so I do in fact own Harry Potter… oh wait, maybe I dreamed that… Yeah, that's more likely… Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just borrowing it.**

**Now, just as a warning, this story will be flip-flopping between two characters POV's, so… yeah… (Awkward silence) REVIEW!**

_Love. It's just another word. Not a particularly difficult one either. But the effect it has on life is absolutely staggering. People have died, entire wars fought, for the love of a single woman. Examples include fables such as Mark Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, the love polygon of Helen of Troy, and Edward and Bella… Maybe not that last one… Love can be a wondrous thing, something that we can't control, something that makes the world seem so much brighter. But sometimes, it is the opposite that is true. Sometimes love can take on a dark light, the agony of a lost lover, the hearts pain as one is kept from the one who holds their affections, through choice or force. A gilded cage is still a cage, after all. -Me_

Harry entered the tavern, weary from the several apparitions he'd had to do to travel from Athens all the way to London. He'd been visiting the country following the rumours of an ancient artefact that had been unearthed. Unfortunately, it had been just that. Rumours. There had been nothing there, culminating in a very disappointing visit, scenery aside. Which led to his visit here. He really needed to rest, and why not get drunk at the same time? It seemed like a good idea to him.

He sat down at the bar, signalling the bartender for whatever was on tap. He wasn't picky, he just wanted to get drunk.

…

Nymphadora Tonks leaned forward on her bar stool in a quiet tavern in London- well, quiet for London, anyway. She had just gotten off of a three-month training exercise and hadn't had a good shag for at least 2 weeks before it started. A very attractive man had just walked through the door and sat down almost directly across from her. With messy coal black hair, aristocratic features, and flawless pale skin, he was a very fine specimen of the human male. But his most eye-catching feature was by far his emerald coloured eyes, framed by black glasses that did nothing to hide the mesmerising orbs. Though dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans combo, with a leather bomber jacket, she could easily tell that they were high priced and designer labels. He looked like a male model that had just come off the runway for a shoot advertising the 'average man' clothes line.

Tonks looked down at herself. Her features were currently that of a pretty, voluptuous, busty blonde woman, her skin milky white with sky blue eyes. She was dressed in a simple white blouse over a white singlet top, with black mini skirt and black open toed high-heels. She looked back up as the man ordered his first drink, tired lines seemingly etched into his striking face. A devious smirk lighted across her face. She had rented a room earlier in the hotel above the bar. She would wait until he was a few drinks in- or rather, heavily smashed-then she would make her move.

…

Harry looked through blurry eyes down at his half-empty glass. He had been sitting here for close to an hour, and in that time, the amount of seconds that he had not had a drink in his hand could be counted out on his hands, with fingers to spare. He didn't even know what he was drinking anymore, just that it was rather tasteless. Though that could be because of all the alcohol he had already consumed. Oh well. He picked his head up by sheer force of will, dragging his eyes from his suddenly drained glass. _When did that happen?_ Passed through his mind before mentally shrugging and raising his hand for another refill. As the bartender came over, an expression that somehow conveyed amusement, disapproval, anxiety and resignation all at the same time painted on his face, the bottle of whatever it was in his hand, he felt the stool next to him shift as someone sat down upon it. He waited for his glass to be topped up with the nameless liquid before turning to his left to observe the new-comer in what he hoped was a stealthy fashion. It wasn't. As he caught a look at her, he almost gaped in shock. With the hair a honey-golden blonde, and sky blue eyes, it was almost as if Fleur was sitting next to him! But that was impossible. Fleur was in France, with no memories of their times together. And now that he took a closer look, he could see the fairly obvious differences. This woman's skin was lighter, a pale, milky white compared to Fleur's golden tan. Her cheekbones smoother, her face heart shaped, while Fleur's cheekbones were more angular, her face more diamond in form. No, this woman was not Fleur, no matter the similarities. _Although, _, _her figure does rival Fleur's…_ His booze addled mind remarked absent-mindedly as he drunkenly stared at her curves.

…

Tonks smirked as she saw the attractive man shamelessly ogling her, no doubt helped in no small way by the amount of alcohol he had consumed in the past hour. She hoped it wouldn't impact on his performance.

She had finally decided that it was time to make her move, as it were, when he didn't deem to notice when he was even drinking anymore. Obviously, she had made the right choice. As he continued to stare, she took several deep breaths, emphasizing her currently solid D-cup breasts. She raised her hand to the barkeep, ordering some of the nameless drink he had in his hands. She had to snap her fingers a few times, as his eyes had also been drawn to her heaving bosom. After finally snapping him out of his daze, she turned towards the still nameless man, taking a sip of the cool drink. She smiled a flirty smile, before leaning in, her unbuttoned blouse and fairly loose singlet giving him a magnificent view of her cleavage, and asked, in an alluring manner, "So, what's your name, handsome?" With a flirty wink at the end.

He seemed to need a few seconds to comprehend that he was being spoken to, and another few to compose an intelligible reply, such was his inebriated state. "Harrison Curl, miss, but you can call me Harry, and yours?" He spoke slowly, obviously knowing he was drunk, making sure he didn't slur. Well, not too badly at least. She had to admit, she was slightly impressed. He could really hold his liquor.

…

"Harrison Curl, miss, but you can call me Harry, and yours?" He had spoken slowly, struggling not to slur, giving her another of his well-used pseudonyms. He was rather startled when the Fleur-look-a-like had asked for his name, though whether that was from the alcohol or her rather pleasing show, he wasn't sure. He wasn't exactly sure how to react to her obvious, even to his drunken mind, advances. The only experiences he had had with any form of attraction had been with Fleur, and generally, he had been the one leading, and he had never drank this much around her. _But this isn't Fleur,_ He reminded himself once again.

"Dora T-Springs." She covered her last name quickly, luckily for her he was too drunk to notice. He smiled and nodded genially, his eyes closing slightly as the liquor worked on his body.

…

_Stupid Tonks, stupid! _She'd almost given out her real last name, and while it may not matter since she was talking to a muggle, once was enough to start a habit. She was just lucky he was too smashed to notice. She sighed. _Oh well, at least I changed it quickly enough._ She turned her attention back to Harry, as she now knew him to be called, her sultry expression still set on her face.

"So, _Harry, _I have a room upstairs we could use, y'know, if you were in the mood." She whispered sexily, leaning forward until she was breathing against his ear, her hand supporting her weight on his thigh, very close to his tenting crotch. She leaned back slightly, the lusty look in her eyes burning in its intensity as she took a quick glance down. "Oh? Is that for me? You shouldn't have." She whispered, going in for the 'kill' as she slowly moved her hand toward the bulging fabric. She felt his breath quicken and his hand reached her waist, his grip tight. She grinned victoriously. _Gotcha!_

…

He could feel her hot breath on his flushed skin, as her hand slowly made its way across the fabric of his pants. His breathing was coming out in pants, his hands grip on her waist- _When did that get there_- tight and slippery with perspiration. He leaned forward, his lips touching the curve of her ear as his hands began to explore her body through her loose clothes. "Lead the way." He whispered, his own breath upon her ear causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She was smirking as leaned back, the same look staying there as together the two of them got up, and walked- well stumbled, in Harry's case- towards her room. _She's not Fleur, _rang through his head again, _but maybe, for tonight, that's a good thing._

…

_**(Seriously. If anyone wants to write the lemon, PM me or review or something.)**_

…

**So! That's that! Am I amazing, or am I amazing! Now, just so I don't get any flames or anything, Tonks is not a slut. She has been away on training for three months, she was horny, she was at least slightly drunk (remember, she was there, and drinking, before Harry even entered the bar), and Harry is just that goddamn attractive! So yeah!**

**Now, as you know, I keep the poll results even if they are no longer relevant, so yeah…**

**Daphne- 13**

**Tonks- 13**

**OC- Basically Yuuhi Kurenai from Naruto- 9**

**Tracey- 6**

**Just Fleur- 3**

**So, props to Thanathos's story 'Crimson Sea' in my last chapter for the 'burn down heaven' quote. Just so I don't forget.**

**And finally, the next story to be updated shall be the HP/FT crossover that I have going that everyone who hasn't checked out yet definitely should. I intend to make it epic. It shall have its next update within the week!**

**Now, REVIEW MY MINIONS, FOR THAT IS WHAT YOUR MASTER WISHES! IF YOU DO NOT, I SHALL TAKE YOU TO THE TORTURE CHAMBER… AND HAVE YOU MERCILESSLY TICKLED BY DISSEMBODIED HANDS! MWAHAHAHAHA!**


	6. Awakenings, Revelations and Ponderings

**Hello all! It sure has been a while huh? Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter. See? There it is in writing. I don't own it people!**

Harry's eyes snapped open, the sunlight pouring in from his hotel window. He released a groan, dragging his right arm over his eyes to block out the horrifyingly bright light. He shifted, attempting to stand, only to fail as he realised that his left arm was surrounded by warmth. He paused, before slowly turning his head towards the woman sharing his bed, memories of a blue-eyed blonde girl leading him up to her room.

That is not the woman he saw now.

This woman he was staring at had skin paler than the female he remembered, almost the colour of pure snow, her hair a midnight black of curled ringlets that trailed down her back, spreading across the sheets. Her face slightly more angular, the heart shape more pronounced than in her previous form.

_Metamorphamagus,_ Harry realised with a start, his eyes widening, _Crap. _He'd chosen to go to a bar in muggle London so he could avoid magic users, and he'd ended up sleeping with one. _Okay Harry, _he thought to himself as he slowly, _slowly, _shifted his position so that he wouldn't wake her.

"Mmmmmmmm…" Harry froze as a sensual voice moaned out drowsily. He turned his head to face her once more, just in time to see her back stretching tantalizingly, her gorgeous backside arching into the air. He watched with a dry mouth as she lazily cracked a crimson eye open. Crimson! After getting over the momentary shock- He'd seen things a lot more surprising than an odd eye colour- he carefully placed a mask of confusion on his face. _Maybe,_ he thought to himself, _if I act confused, she'll think I'm just a muggle, _he thought hopefully.

As he opened his mouth with a look of practiced confusion on his features, quickly trying to make his suddenly dry mouth a little more moist, the questioning tone already entering his voice, he noticed that her eyes had gone wide, her head snapped up and staring at his face.

_Why is she staring at me like that? _Harry thought to himself, a feeling of bemusement spreading through him. Then he noticed something. She wasn't staring at his face. She was staring at his forehead. She was staring at his scar, of which the glamours he had placed upon had dispelled during their…encounter.

"Merlin… You're Harry Potter!"

_Crap. _His life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

...

Tonks was very warm. She was wrapped in comfy blankets with a very warm body next to her. She felt her lips turn up at the corners as the memories of all the fun they had gotten up to last night. All the hot… sweaty… _delicious… _fun. She heard him groan and felt his body shift. He was probably just waking up. As a consequence of Auror training, she rose with the sun, whether she wanted to or not. Thankfully, she'd taken an anti-hangover potion the night before, so nothing to worry about there.

She felt him begin to get up, and almost giggled when she felt him freeze after he noticed he wasn't alone in the bed. Of course, she restrained herself. She was pretending to be asleep after all. After about thirty seconds of him staring and not relaxing, she decided to play with him a bit. She playfully stretched, arching her posterior, which she had always been complimented on by her previous partners, before resting it down again and lethargically opening one of her eyes to look at him. There was an expression of confusion on his face that she didn't quite understand. At least not until she caught sight of her inky coloured tresses. _Dammit, _she thought to herself angrily, _way to go Tonks, now you've got to obliviate him. Geez, I hope he's not a cop or something, I don't want to have to hurt him while trying to…_

Her thoughts drifted off as she took the time to register what she just saw. A scar. A scar that had most certainly not been there the night before. A scar that had become very familiar in description over the past few years. A lightning bolt scar on the left side of his pale forehead, faded though it may have been. She stared for a few moments, before blurting out, "Merlin… You're Harry Potter!"

All the while thinking, _Holy Crap, I just had Sex with Harry Freaking POTTER!_

…

Lord Voldemort strode through Malfoy Manor, his robes, black as pitch, sliding along behind him. His hands were clasped behind him, his features held in a thoughtful frown. His mind was on the same topic it had been on for the last few years. How to restore his power to the heights it had been at during his last rise to power. At first, it hadn't been noticeable, but then he started noticing little things. He couldn't cast as many spells at one time as he'd once been able, and the spells he did cast no longer had the power they'd once had. It had all culminated at the duel with Dumbledore in the Ministry of Magic's atrium. He should have easily smashed the old Headmaster into the ground, yet they had been, for the most part, even.

He knew why. Of course he did, he was Lord Voldemort, there was nothing about magic that he did not know. The Diggory boys' blood was too weak. The ritual that he had used to secure his immortality, and later return him to a corporeal form, called for the blood of an enemy. The first time, he had used the blood of both of the Prewettt brothers, powerful wizards the both of them, and fiercely against all he stood for. He had enjoyed watching as their bodies were drained into the cauldron. But Diggory, he was only a slightly above average wizard, and still a child in mentality.

No, he needed something more, to restore his power. This is why he was searching for the young Potter Heir. The 'Order' probably thought it was because he had been 'vanquished' the first time by him. A stain on his honour. No. Harry Potter was born with an incredible amount of magical power, and no doubt it had grown since he was a child. Yes, he would be the most beneficial to add to the ritual. Of course, should he not find him, he could always just capture another. Perhaps Alastor Moody…

…

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he stared out at #12 Grimmauld Place, his Order bickering over various things. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were arguing over some inconsequential little thing, as per usual. Alastor was glaring suspiciously at everything that moved. Severus was just glaring at everything. Minerva and Filius were discussing the new students that term, and Sirius and Remus were sitting quietly at the corner of the table, most likely discussing Harry in some way.

He sighed again. Sometimes these meetings were so tedious. He wondered where young Nymphadora was. Oh well, it didn't matter.

"Is that all for tonight?" He said as he stood from his seat at the end of the table. When no one answered after a few moments of silence. "Very well, I bring this Order meeting to a close."

He stepped backwards amidst the sounds of chairs being pushed back from the table. Dodging the usual offering of dinner from Molly with practiced ease, and stepped into the fireplace, calling out "Headmasters Office, Hogwarts." As he did so.

…

**Okay, now I know this took a few weeks, but school has started up again, so unfortunately my update speed will be gradually decreasing. But fear not! I promise to get at least one chapter out once per month! No matter the cost. Now how's that for dedication, huh?**


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